


Two Boys One CoffeePot

by SillyDandyLion



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5739253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyDandyLion/pseuds/SillyDandyLion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something's brewing. Something that will keep these boys up all night. Coffee.<br/>Caffeine crazed  antics and silliness ensue when Tweek and Craig have one too many cups to drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Boys One CoffeePot

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem. This is dedicated to my friend, Diane, who always listens to my craziness, and to Qindarka’s Aisle 10, a lovely fanfiction, which inspired this piece and which I encourage you all to read. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Empty.  
The mug was empty.  
While an empty mug may seem perfectly ordinary to you. To Tweek - an empty mug was a level one state of emergency: catastrophic disaster. Blue eyes searched the white depths of the mug, he found only a single survivor. A droplet huddled at the bottom. That was all that was left. He could hear thunder shatter the sky - feel the ground tremble as flames burst. Tweek’s world came unhinged, floating aimlessly through the blackness of space until it finally collided with a sun. Poof - incinerated in an instant.  
Craig popped up from behind the couch, startling Tweek. “Gah - where’s the coffee?”  
“I drank it.”  
“All of it?”  
“Yep.” Craig wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
“You don’t even like coffee.”  
“I like messing with you.” Craig leaned forward from behind the couch. His face hovering in front of Tweek’s, and his smile - his smile was so smug, it was practically a formal invitation for Tweek to knock him upside the head.  
“That was my coffee.”  
“I know. That’s why I drank it.”  
“RRrrr - no. It’s not ordinary coffee.”  
“What - is it laced with meth?”  
Tweek stared at Craig. Unblinking.  
“You have to be kidding.”  
“Okay, it’s not meth, but -er- it’s close. It’s Nir-java.”  
“Wow,” snickered Craig. “That pun.”  
“You drank my coffee.”  
“So what? Am I going to go all twitchy like you?”  
“I’m not twitchy,” said Tweek. His eyelid was twitching.  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Watch.” Before Craig could crack another remark, Tweek inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. Concentrate. Imagine yourself perfectly still, like a leaf gently floating down a stream - Gah - Dumb. Focus. Imagine Craig’s stupid smug face when you prove him wrong. Better. Tweek began envisioning random household objects hitting Craig in his stupid smug face. Computer Mouse. Pen. Toaster. Toaster again. A calm fell over Tweek. His body relaxed, becoming still. While Tweek was the picture of tranquility, standing there perfectly motionless, inside he was all backflips and somersaults. Tweek peaked at Craig, hoping to find his smug face deflated in defeat, but he was still smiling. Something was different though. Wait, was he impressed? Was Craig Tucker impressed by him? Tweek’s finger quivered ever so slightly. No. Then his eyelid trembled. No-No. His shoulder jerked. No-No-No!  
Craig had to cup a hand over his smile. Tweek was trying so hard, his eyes, nose, and mouth were all bunched up together. Should he feel guilty? He knew that of all the button’s Tweek had, the twitching was the big red one, but how could he resist? Look at him. Tweek trying to keep still was like watching a tiny rickety washer machine blow a gasket. His cheeks were starting to turn crimson. Wow - Tweek might actually blow a fuse.  
Tweek finally short circuited a few moments later, exhaling loudly, flopping head first onto the couch. He resumed his rhythmic jitters. A chuckle escaped from between Craig's fingers. Tweek’s eyes instantly dropped like bricks, and he began muttering something to himself in a harsh, hushed tone.  
“Hey, I like your twitches.”  
Silence.  
Tweek slowly gazed up at Craig through his bangs. There was something here. Tweek had heard it in Craig’s voice, and Craig could see it in Tweek’s eyes. It was honest, way too honest. Here suddenly felt exposed, as if they had been caught unarmed in the center of a battlefield without any cover in sight. It was only a matter of time until shots rang out, then their bodies would slowly slump over - dead.  
Nobody moved.  
BANG. BANG.  
Craig's heart was slamming against his chest. “Tweek, I ….”  
Tweek’s eyes swelled with eagerness.  
“Tweek, I think I’m having a heart attack.”  
“What?”  
“Nir-java - my heart - going to explode-”  
“Oh my god.” Tweek’s hands shot up to his face. “I killed you. What do I do? What-do-I-do?”  
“I dunno! I-dunno!”  
Tweek’s hands were tugging at his hair now. “I killed you, and they’re going to throw me in prison. I don’t want to join the Aryan Nation. What if they turn me out? Gah - what will they make me do for coffee?”  
“Tweek!”  
Craig fell to the floor, clutching his chest. He didn’t know who he hated more: himself for ODing on coffee - was that even possible? - or his best friend, who was worried about becoming a prison nazis slut while he was ODing on coffee. His heart was beating fast. Nobody’s heart should beat this fast. Is this how skydivers feel when they jump out of a moving plane? -  
Tweek’s lips were on Craig’s on face.  
Now Craig felt like he’d been shoved out of an airplane - the concrete was coming at him fast, and he didn’t have a parachute. He could hear his heartbeat hammering against his chest. He looked up at the other boy. Wild feathery hair framed his face, blonde strands grazed Craig. Tweek’s blue eyes were staring directly into him.  
Craig's eyes closed, and his mouth parted. Their lips coupled together.  
Craig opened his eyes. He’s -  
Tweek’s cheeks bulged, becoming round and red. A gust of warm damp air burst into Craig's mouth. Before Craig had time to react, his own cheeks inflated like balloons, and there was a sudden crushing pressure on his chest. He’s performing CPR!?  
Craig shoved the other boy off of him. “I’m alive,” Craig croak. When Tweek moved closer, Craig's hand shut up. “No - I’m - just - just stay.”  
Tweek wanted to die. Mouth to mouth - they have been mouth to mouth, and now he was petrified head to toe. Craig Tucker knew - and that made Tweek want to shrivel up into a ball because feelings were like your web browser history - shameful and secret - and Craig had seen his. What happens next? He had slobbered on Craig's face. Gah - delete! delete! Where was the backspace button for life?  
Craig lay sprawled across the carpet. His body limp as if he was some carcass that had washed up on the beach after a hurricane. His chest slowly rose and fell.  
Silence stretched between them.  
Staring directly ahead at the ceiling, Craig finally spoke, “Nir-java. Fuck.”  
“Fuck,” said Tweek.  
Tweek gathered himself up in his arms, hugging his legs to his chest, bracing himself. He’s not looking at me. Fuck. This was all messed up. This was on fire and sinking.  
Craig's head suddenly popped up, turning towards Tweek. He was wearing his signature smug smile. “Got anymore?”  
Tweek was wearing a smile to match.

Thier faces loomed in front of the coffee pot. Eyes wide with anticipation as they listened to the music of the morning - the gargle of boiling water - the hisses of droplets - the wheeze as a whirl of steam puffed into the air - they were practically front row at a concert hall.  
Soon empty cups piled up on the table, little leaning towers of porcelain, and the room overflowed with coffee crazed chatter.  
“How do you not like Sunny D?”  
“Sunny D is not OJ. It’s BS.”  
“Your face is BS”  
Both boys laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact. The subject of Craig's face was teetering close to what happened before in the living room. The Incident.  
“Sooo,” said Craig, adjusting his beanie.  
“Mmmhhhmmm.”  
“Did you know that the little girl who did Ducky’s voice in The Land Before Time was murdered by her father a year later?”  
“What!?” Tweek nearly dropped his cup.  
“Yeah. She didn’t put her toys away, so he put her away.”  
“That’s not true.”  
“Look it up.”  
They talked about everything and anything. Everything except what mattered most.  
“I can feel my teeth tingling,” said Craig, running his tongue back and forth across his pearly whites.  
“I know. It’s great, right?”  
“This stuff is like liquid hydrogen fuel. I feel like I can fly around the moon for days.”  
An hour later, They crashed. Hard. Spaceships have to come back down to earth eventually, and when the coffee was gone, Craig and Tweek were no exception.Tweek was sitting in the center of the couch, head leaning back, eyelids droopy. Craig’s body was slumped next to him. His head nestled on the armrest.  
Nir-java.  
What a dumb pun. Tweek thought the stuff had killed him. Tweek. How do - where do we even - they had kissed. Kinda. They hadn’t talked about it. It was the elephant in the room. No. He liked Elephants. They were majestic and ate circus peanuts. He didn’t like this. It was too big. This was the Tyrannosaurus in the room. Something that could swallow them both up in one gulp, but he was smart. Right? He knew what to do. Keep avoiding The Incident and keep that Tyrannosaurus caged on a secluded island. Nobody got hurt that way. Craig peeked at the other boy from the corner of his eye. Tweek’s lips were soft. He ought to have more heart attack scares. He’d liked that. He liked this.  
Nir-java.  
Craig was hooked. A coffee junkie could always recognize a fellow junkie, and Craig had a little too much fun running his tongue across his teeth. Tweek’s cheeks were getting warm. That thought was dangerously close to what happened before. Craig was sitting dangerously close to him now. He could wrap his arm around his, pull him closer - No. Craig didn’t like him that way. That was fine. That smug face would be spending a lot more time in his kitchen and that was enough. He had this.  
Dicking around, drinking coffee, being here with him.  
Nirvana.


End file.
